


An Angel's End (Voltron Seraph Of The End AU)

by Jameses



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-07-13 10:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16016222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameses/pseuds/Jameses
Summary: Four children grow up in an orphanage, all for different reasons, but all of them become family. Matthew and Katie Holt are two inseparable siblings who had been abandoned. Lance McClain was a young boy who'd lost his family in a car accident.But Keith Kogane? He was a traitor.Keith leaves the orphanage behind. He has run from his problems his whole life, why should he stop now?Keith was the one who pulled Lance from that car. Even though Keith saved his life, Lance doesn't believe that Keith is human. No human would leave their friends behind like that.Keith and Lance get normal jobs, at the same store no less. They avoid eachother at all costs, seemingly sharing a mutual hatred.Yet, after trumpets of the apocalypse proclaim the downfall of humanity, a race of beasts rise from the shadows: the Galra. Anyone under eighteen is taken captive and used as livestock to fill their bloodthirst.All they need for complete world domination is the Seraph Of The End.And Lance knows exactly who he is.(AU inspired by a show called Seraph Of The End, please watch that before reading, it will make a lot more sense. )





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place in the Seraph Of The End universe- please watch that, at least after this chapter, or future chapters won't make sense. At least the first episode, that way you understand how the SOTE world is set up.
> 
> Song is "Push Pull" by Purity Ring, please listen to that before reading this :)
> 
> Also, this is written POV style, whoever's name is in bold is who is talking.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Keith ******

 

 _“You were young and you'd stare,_  
_With a reverence unimpaired,_  
_There was an echo far and faint_  
_Beneath the air remained._  
_You were young and you'd stare,_  
_Where my limbs hung far and fair-_  
_Make a ladder of what folds and climb up to me.”_

 

Ugh. I can’t believe I like this.

  
Katie’s music seeps through my earbuds as I approach the store. The sun is just peering over the city street, casting a warm hue over my path ahead. It’s strangely calm, with little more than a handful of people walking about. Everything seems still, laid back, and I mentally savour the taste of it- it’s going to be the closest I’ll get to being alone for the rest of the day.

  
I scan my keycard as I listen to Megan James’ soothing voice recite the chorus. I find myself humming to the music while the automatic doors open. It’s a half hour before the store opens to the public, and of course, I’m the one assigned to opening it. On the bright side of things, I get a few minutes of sweet solitude before the rest of the crew shows.

  
I shoot a glare towards the small cafe area, despite nobody being there. It’s basically a generic Starbucks- they just sell coffee, breakfast snacks and some desserts.

  
Except annoying-mc-asshole works there.

  
Of course he’s gonna be late. Yet I’m not sure whether I’m happy or sad about that.

  
_“You push and you pull and you tell yourself no,_  
_It’s like when you lie down, the veins go in slow.”_

  
Most of my days working here are spend plotting out the best scenario for how to rid myself of Lance Mcclain. Trust me, he and I share a mutual hatred, I know that for sure.

  
It _is_ like pushing and pulling with him. Pushing, pulling, twisting, fighting, just to get him to cooperate. Thankfully, he works in the cafe, and I’m at the customer service desk today. I don’t even have to look at him if I don’t want to.

  
He and I- and Katie too, with her stupidly catchy songs- go farther back than I want to admit. We had been sent to the same orphanage when we were all young. All of us for different reasons. My mind drifts back to that first night I saw him-

  
My thoughts are interrupted with a panicked cry from the direction of the door. Well, here he is. I see him rushing up to the doors, scanning his card frantically. He practically falls through the door, his chocolate colored hair still ruffled with bed-head syndrome. His sapphire blue hoodie gets stuck on the doorframe, letting the morning rays enlighten his tanned skin. He struggles to free himself for a moment, nearly tearing the velvety fabric. He finally gets himself free before rubbing his tired eyes and trying to blink back the early-morning blurriness. He groans, whining and complaining as he drags himself to the cafe counter.

  
I’m safely across the store, I doubt he can see me. I want to scowl at him, but I feel a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. Especially when he puts on his apron (inside out, mind you) and yells: “Lance Mcclain, ready for duty!”

  
_You’re staring, Keith._ My conscious calls me out- rather rude, I must say- but I notice it with a slight blush. _Do your damn job before he notices._

  
_“You push and you pull but you’d never know?_  
_I crept up in you and I wouldn't let go.”_

  
A small chime rings out as I sit down in the chair at the service desk. I slide on a headset over my earbuds as I lean back. The store is now open; but nobody’s here yet, so I can drown out Lance’s huffs as he struggles to start up the espresso machine.

  
My fingers tap on the desk to the beat. The second verse almost has me humming again, but Lance is here. I know he'd make some dumb comment. My mind drifts to more scenarios of how to berid myself of him- maybe the espresso machine will explode? That'd be funny.

  
I had the chance- god, it seems so long ago- to kill him. I had many chances. Any single one of thousand ways to die could’ve been his fate. While all of the other kids at the orphanage had been dreaming of future success, finding a family, and even true love- I’d been plotting; fantasizing about Lance McClain's death.

  
I don’t think any of us got a family, success, or love anyway. A few of the kids had been adopted, but there were always the four of us: Katie, her brother Matt, Lance and I. Katie was the youngest, and the smartest- she had been at the orphanage since she was five, dropped off along with her older brother, who’d been nine at the time. The two stuck together like they were conjoined at birth, wherever Matt went, Katie was waddling behind.

  
They’re the closest things I’ve ever had to friends, I guess. Katie’s cool, she has wanted to be an engineer and definitely has the brains for it. Matt was a jokester, but he was always arguing some stupid point like: “When aliens attack, the best weapon would be a spork” or something along those lines. Hence, I found him rather annoying.

  
They were a “if you want one, you have to take both” pair, and I don’t think anyone wanted Matt.

  
I had been the one to sit back and watch. I’ve never enjoyed socializing. I was the quiet one, the “weird one” if you will. I don’t deny it. I had gotten into a foster home once and the couple thought I was mute. They nearly had an aneurysm when I hadn’t said a word in three days.

  
Maybe it had been the depression- god, I hated Lance- but I’d missed him and the others at the orphanage after the first five minutes.  
As the third verse comes all too quickly, I can’t stop myself from thinking of the first night I’d met Lance.

  
_It was dark. The stars glistened like jewels. I could’ve sworn the boom was just thunder from the June heat lightning. Then I could see the car, the totaled metal death-trap crinkled against a tree trunk, having been apparently run off the road._

 

 _“There was no light and I swear,_  
_I could see your raring fear._  
_I heard the plains moaning back,_  
_I saw the thunder roll o’er black,_  
_There was no light and I swear…”_

**Lance**

“Ha! Got it!” I exclaim as the machine seems to purr, the dark liquid trickling into the cup beneath.

I turn to the counter, which is starting to develop a line. “One espresso, one french vanilla, two iced coffees…” I recite the list of to-do orders.It’s barely 9am, yet there is already almost a dozen orders. I scramble to get each and every order filled, and filled just right. Nothing less than perfect.

  
It would be nice to have some help. Yet, sometimes I’m glad when I get to work alone, because you know the Starbucks-girl stereotype. There’s a good chance that they’ll be a pretty girl every so often, and on a busy day like today, my chances are really good.

  
I smile slyly to myself, preparing a pickup line in my head. _Hey, baby, are you from space? Because your body is out of this world~_

  
Yeah, that’ll work. That’s perfect.

  
“Alright! The espresso and the french vanilla. That’ll be 4.95.” I say as I take the drinks to the counter, delivering them to the unfortunately average-looking customer. They pay without a word and leave. I repeat the process: two iced coffees, three cappuccinos, a regular dark, a hot green tea, an almond espresso…

  
It doesn’t take long for me to slow down. I think I need a shot of caffeine. ASAP. The line has finally died down, the morning crowd dissipating as noon approaches.

  
“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s burnt.” I say to myself as I look towards the direction of the help desk.

  
There’s a boy sitting there, his chair leaned back a little and his eyes closed. He’s resting his head on his hand, his breathing slow and methodical. His bangs fall lazily across his forehead, his long hair ruffled from the headset he’s wearing. He’s sleeping, and he looks like he desperately needs it. He’s pale and there’s dark rings under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in weeks.

  
He’s _recharging,_ not sleeping. I’m 100% certain he doesn’t sleep, because sleeping is a human thing and that thing is not human. He’s probably an alien.

  
I’ve been trying to prove my theories for years. I’ve known him since I was ten. There was an accident-

  
I don’t want to think about the accident. Anyway, McMullet over there kinda saved me. That night there had been...something weird.

  
Wings. Feathers. Glowing eyes and an angel standing before me-

  
_Maybe you should bring him a coffee, to perk him up before he gets fired?_ My mind calls out, causing the already blurry image in my mind to fizzle into nothingness.  
I don’t know what I’d seen that night. Sometimes I doubt what I saw, but then he’ll say something that makes makes me sure again. Or, worse, he won’t say anything, and he’ll just stare from a distance with this sharp, piercing, calculating gaze of his that’ll make you unsure of whether he just looks like that all the time or if he’s imagining tearing you apart limb from limb.

  
“Probably both.” I mutter to myself as the last of the morning customers leaves, and I’m left to clean up an oversized mess. Still- I make one more coffee, a little stronger than I normally do and with an extra shot of caffeine.

  
_Wait- can aliens have caffeine? Will it like, make him explode? If I wake him up, is he going to kill me?_ My thoughts race as I pick up the drink and cautiously begin to walk over to the desk. My heart is pounding, I’m not sure if it’s from fear or…

  
I stop, just feet from the desk.

  
_Or what?_

 

**Keith**

 

 _“And I, carve out the spaces_  
_And I, oh I,_  
_Imparted graces,_  
_And I, oh I,_  
_I couldn’t shake it_  
_And I, oh I…”_

  
My phone connection wavers for a moment, causing static to interrupt the next verse-.. and my nap. I think I fell asleep. Even worse, I think that this song has been on repeat the entire damn time because I’m pretty sure I can recite it word-for-word for the rest of my life. I let out a yawn, stretching and trying to blink back my bleariness.

  
I slip the headset off, catching a glimpse of a figure standing in front of me. I rub my eyes, not exactly ready to do my job yet.

  
“I apologize sir...can I help you with something?” I ask, trying to focus. “We can’t take returns unless you have your rec-”  
I blink a few times in surprise. Is that...is that who I think it is?

  
“I uh...you were looking really tired. So I just... I thought you might need…” Lance’s high-pitched voice stumbles over his words as he sets a drink on the counter. Yet, after a moment, he puffs out his chest and puts his hands on my hips, finding his confidence and finally speaking with the Lance™ smoothness. “I mean, wouldn’t want you to get fired for being so lazy all the time.” He teases, crossing his arms. “It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve turned a blind eye to the rest of us.”

  
Mainly, I’m surprised. Does he...actually give a shit about anyone besides himself? I pick up the coffee, my vision finally clearing a bit. I look up at him quizzically.

  
“This is a prank, isn’t it.” I say, rather boredly. “Lance, you’re gonna have to try harder next time. It’s obvious.”

  
“What?! No!” He exclaims, his face turning red. “I just wanted to do something nice!”

  
“Then it’s drugged. I’m probably gonna wake up in a ditch- if I even do wake up- after drinking this.” I know he hates me. I smell it, feeling a small smirk on my lips as he gasps. I know I’ve hit a nerve. He looks like he’s going to explode.

  
“How dare you for even thinking such a thing!” He yells, drawing attention to the two of us. “You know what? Piss off. I try to be nice to you and this is how you treat me.” He turns and stomps away from the desk, like a toddler having a temper tantrum.

  
I chuckle a little to myself. He’s quite amusing.

  
I hesitate for a moment before cautiously taking a sip of the coffee. My eyes widen at the taste- it’s really- no, REALLY good. I don’t know if I’ve ever tasted something like that. Good isn’t a valid description. More like divine. It’s dark, just how I like it, and sweet with a tad hint of bitterness, and there’s even a little bit of cinnamon on top for some spice.

  
Lance is pretending to be cleaning up, but I can see him watching my reaction. Despite my no-happiness-in-the-workplace motto, I offer him a smile. I guess I can give him that for the wickedly good coffee he gave me.

  
He stares for a moment, as if he didn’t know I was capable of smiling. He hurries back to work after a minute, breaking eye contact with me. I sigh and tiredly slide my red jacket off, my nametag pinned to my black t-shirt underneath, the coffee warming me up too much for my layers of clothing.

  
I look up at the clock. It’s 1:15...I only have to stay until two. Lovely. I can go home, maybe get a nap, try to get this stupid song out of my head, and I need to text Katie and tell her to stop sending me this shit.

  
The time goes by faster than I expected, with only two returns for the whole day. (Judging by the looks of Lance’s mess, the customers probably swarmed the cafe today.) It was a relief to not have a whole hoard of customers today. I was too tired from staying up all night...a habit I really need it stop if I'm going to keep my job.

  
I have been staying up at night, then sleeping during the day for the majority of my life. When I was at the orphanage, I stayed up at night because I didn't want to interact with people. And, also, plotting my escape.

  
I had tried to escape it several times- hence the locks on the kids’ bedroom doors and windows now- but it never really got me anywhere. Maybe past the front lawn. I'd hated it there. I was and always would be better off on my own.

  
When my sixteenth birthday rolled around, and I could legally leave, I'd packed my things and been gone in less than an hour. I remember Katie clinging to me and crying her eyes out, even Matt begging me to stay, and I've always felt bad for that.

  
Lance had stayed. His birthday was only about four months after mine. He hates me now; calling me a “traitor” and an “abandoner”. Guess I can’t blame him.  
Things had gotten really awkward when he and I got a job in the same supermarket. Most of the time we had separate shifts; I usually tried to get the night shift (considering I'm used to staying up most nights) but it doesn't always work out. I'm always morning or night shift though, either closing or opening the store.

  
Two o’ clock hits and I'm kinda in a rush to leave. I don’t even want to know what Lance’s hidden motives were behind making me a special coffee earlier. He probably wants a favor. Well, screw him.

  
I grab my phone and headphones, then I slip out the door, hidden within a small horde of customers. I think it’s a family of seven. Whatever, in the corner of my eye I see Lance walking towards the desk. He can’t see me through the wall of kids and teens.

  
Of course. Yep, he wanted something. He stands awkwardly, rubbing his neck in nervousness and glancing around. He looks a bit worried.  
Yeah. Definitely a favor. He never liked asking me for favors, because he wanted everyone to think he was capable himself. Fuck him, I’ve done more for him already than most people do in their entire lifetime for someone.

  
I slip out into the street, which is now bustling. People everywhere, afternoon traffic, lights blaring and sirens and…

  
That same claustrophobia I could’ve sworn was behind me rears its ugly head. My breath hitches. It’s like what I’d felt every night at that orphanage, lying awake, teary-eyed with the pain of being so close to him, so close to someone who thought I was a monster, someone who seemingly loved and hated me at the same time.

  
Lance loved everyone at the orphanage. He loved Katie, he loved Matt, he even loved me, because we were all family. And of course, I had torn that family apart, leaving only his hatred.

  
I hurry South, hoping to catch afternoon train back to my apartment. The faster I can get out of this crowd, the better. The I can leave my minimum-wage hell, the better. The faster I can leave my annoying coworkers, the better.

  
The faster I can get away from _him_ , the better.

 

**Lance**

_How the hell does he just disappear like that?_

  
I’m left standing there like a lost child, scanning each and every face that walks by for a mullet and a sad look. I’m looking back and forth, then back again, occasionally looking up at the service desk, hoping maybe he’ll come back.

  
First of all, he’s been off lately. Like, more than the usual angsty-emo-teen off. He hasn’t really talked to me in weeks, and even Katie says he’s been stonewalling her. She’s been trying to text him, but his replies are late, short, and to the point. He looks like a walking zombie during he day, and now he’s even falling asleep at work.  
He's always been weird, don't get me wrong. I don't know how many times I thought _"huh, that's weird"_ when we were living together at the orphanage. He was the type of kid that would either grow up to be a genius or a serial killer, but I'm not sure which category he's in now.

  
He had always kept two things with him, a book and a switchblade. Two very different things, both apparently with sentimental value to him. I don't remember the name of that book, I just remember it’s blue-violet cover with fancy cursive writing on the front. It had done sort of religious title, but it was just a novel, and one that Keith apparently cherished.

  
And I can't count how many times I'd woken up to find him using that blade to pry at the locks on the door or the windows late at night. He had been miserable, absolutely despising that orphanage with every angsty fiber in his body. He'd left in a heartbeat as soon as he was legally able, without a second thought about anyone but himself.

  
His jacket is in my hands. He left it behind, just like he left us. I clench it until my knuckles are white. Why should I care about him now? It took weeks for Katie to stop crying when he left. I had even caught Matt crying once while he was trying to console her.

  
Even the Director (the woman who ran the orphanage, an older woman with a short stature, wrinkled face and a constant smile- the definition of a “grandmother” figure) had been upset about Keith’s sudden departure. She didn't show it much, she had just given us a sad smile and said “It is his choice.”- But I could see the pain in her eyes, her heart ached because she thought she'd done something wrong.

I never brought it up- but I blamed myself. I'd mentally torn myself apart, clawing at every little mistake I'd made, every time I'd annoyed him, every time I brought up something sensitive, every time I hadn't treated him right. I remembered every time I had listened to him cry quietly at night, while he was flipping through the yellowed pages of that dog-eared book- and I had done nothing, I just listened to him cry and stared up at the ceiling, wondering what would cause him to feel such things. 

  
I pretended not to care when he left us. But really? I blamed myself for his misery. It felt like every time he would cry, I had done it, I had pushed him to the brink, I had pushed him away. I didn't let anyone see my own feelings, because I was the one keeping everyone else from falling apart.

  
But Keith? I'd always known he wasn't human, because humans feel empathy, compassion, and love.

  
He didn't feel anything for any of us.

  
But I'm not like him. I take the crimson colored jacket, slip off my apron and leave.

  
I'm going to find him. I'm going to track his ass down if I have to.

  
Because not only do I care about him, but I want some answers.


	2. "Ticking"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance goes to Keith's apartment to drop off his jacket. He decides to stay a while, but isn't watching the time and stays much longer than expected, hence getting himself in trouble at the orphanage.
> 
> Keith begins to hear a ticking inside his head, and knows something bad is going to happen.
> 
> Then, Lance finds Keith in a very troubling state.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _____TRIGGER WARNING HERE_____
> 
> I'm really sorry for this chapter getting angsty at the end, I kinda turned this into a vent
> 
> This chapter is also REALLY long. It's the longest chapter of ANYTHING I've ever written.  
> Word count: =8,576. Page Count: 22.
> 
> I'll explain more at the end, and the song in the beginning is the last verse to Push and Pull

**Lance**

  
  
“I built a constellation lair,

Out of the moles that hovered there.  
A fever billowed with the wind,

And I obeyed the sky therein.  
I built a constellation lair,

Out of the moles that hovered there,

Make a pardon of what knows

And climb up to me.”  
  
I’m standing statue-still in the hall, listening as Keith’s voice echoes off of (what presumably is) the bathroom walls. I hear a shower running, all crystal clear due the door to the apartment open just a crack.   
  
I can’t find it in me to move. I can’t find it in me to go inside. I can’t find it in me to disturb him, and to bring an end to the soothing melody that has me hypnotized.   
  
_The voice of an angel,_ my mind calls out, that blurry image resurfacing in my mind once more.

 

_Feathers like a raven. Wings like an eagle. A glow of what looks like a halo-_

 

“You push and you pull, and you tell yourself no…” His voice quiets a little as I hear the bathroom door open. He's quieted almost to a low hum, but I still hear him mumbling the words. “It's like when you lie down, the veins grow in slow.”

 

_A smile. A savior. My savior._

 

I swallow, the image of him pulling me out of that crinkled Honda haunting me. When I'd clung to him as he tore me from the burning wreckage-

 

“You push and you pull-”

 

A small noise escapes me when I think of it.

 

He silences in the blink of an eye, and everything is still. I grip the jacket in my hands tighter. I'm almost trembling, fearing that he knows I'm here, that he will find me and think I'm a creep and never want to see me again. My thoughts race a million miles a minute. I want to just leave the jacket here and run, but I still feel like I can't move.

 

The door opens slowly. I see him peek out warily, only half dressed and still sopping wet. His dark hair sticks to his scowling face as he looks out into the hallway. Something changes in his eyes when he looks at me, but I can’t place it. Hate? Anger? A complete loathing for my existence?  
  
He stares at me for longer than a normal person would, in complete silence. It’s like he’s reading me like a book, scanning over every inch of me, probably contemplating whether or not he should just kill me here or if I’m worthy enough to step inside of his apartment.   
  
Then, he sees the jacket. His lips curve into a smirk and his scowl fades. He finally speaks up, but it isn’t what I’m expecting.   
  
“Lance, you look like you’re gonna shit yourself.”   
  
“I...What?” I sputter in confusion as he opens the door, he leaves it open and walks back inside- still completely naked from the waist up. He shrugs, slinging a towel over his dripping hair (which is much longer when it’s wet, he looks like a girl now and I will definately be relaying this information back to Matt and Katie) before he walks through a doorway and out of sight.   
  
With Keith’s very distractive nudeness gone, I step cautiously into the apartment.   
  
_Holy shit._   
  
It’s huge, everything in a pristine black, white, and grey. Modern lights cast the room in a soft white glow, hung from from sleek silver fixtures. The ceilings are high enough to make my voice echo. The door opened to a single large room- enough to fit a large leathery L shaped sofa (one big enough that it could easily seat eight or more people) a big flatscreen tv, and a black polished coffee table between them- still even with more than enough room to move around.   
  
This room alone is three-quarters the size of our bedroom at the orphanage which had _six_ bunk beds. But there’s three other doors- one leads to what appears to be the kitchen and the other to the bathroom that is still full of steam from Keith’s shower, and the one that Keith disappeared through.   
  
_Speak of the devil._ My mind calls out as Keith emerges (thankfully fully clothed), but I’m too lost in gawking at his apartment.

  
  
**Keith**   
  
I smile a little, using the towel to scrub the last of the water from my hair. “Nice, huh?”   
  
Lance is standing there like a deer in headlights, scanning over each and every detail of the apartment. His blue eyes finally sit still for a moment when he focuses on me. My jacket is in his hands still, he’s clinging onto it like a child, so much that I fear he’ll tear the fabric.   
  
“Can I have it back or is it surgically attached?” I joke, pointing to my jacket.

  
“Oh- yeah, I, um…” He stutters, then he tosses it to me. “You left it at the desk earlier. I was gonna give it back but you’d already left.”   
  
“Lance, I hate to break it to you,” I catch it with one hand. “But I work there and so do you. I could’ve gotten it tomorrow. There was no reason to go tracking me down like some crazy ex-boyfriend just to give me my jacket.”   
  
He flushes at that, his tanned skin darkening around his cheeks. He crosses his arms after a moment, trying to look angry. “You’re really an ass, you know that?” He squawks in an annoying high pitched voice, one that he normally only uses when he’s really flustered.   
  
“So I am told.” I retort, setting my jacket on the couch. I assume he’ll just leave after that, but he doesn’t. I wait a moment longer before I say something, remembering how he looked earlier- him fidgeting and glancing around, like he wanted a favor. I swallow my pride, hesitating before asking: “....is there something else you want?”

 

“I just…” He averts his gaze from mine, looking at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to…”  
  
“You wanted to what? Spit it out.” I speak with confidence, but frankly, I don’t want to hear him. I don’t want to answer, because I already know what he is going to ask me.   
  
“You never told me why you left.”

 

_And there it is._

_  
_ _  
_ I sigh, looking away and bundling the jacket in my hands.

  
_  
_ _Come on, Keith. You need to think of something and quick, doesn’t matter what it is, anything but the truth. Maybe you can quickly fabricate a lie about some pretty girl or something, or school or a good job offering, hell, tell him aliens abducted you for all it matters. It’s just Lance._

 

_Lance._

 

The boy I’ve grown up with, the one I’d saved, the one who was always the biggest pain in the ass- Lance, the only one that knew, the only one who perhaps even understood.

  
  
_I’m a monster, and he knows it._

  
  
“I left because you’re annoying as hell,” I say the first thing that pops into my head. “And, you wet the bed until you were eleven.”

  
  
His eyes widen and he flushes even more. But he knows I’m joking when I smirk at him, mocking his childishness that he still even carries to this day.

  
  
“I did not!” He yells, exactly like a defiant two-year-old. “Even if I did, how would you know?”

  
  
“Lance,” I’m trying to stifle a laugh, but it takes every fiber of willpower in my body. “We shared a bunk bed. I fucking know.”

  
  
He’s trying hard to come up with a comeback, but he’s just staring at me with his mouth hanging open. Then he huffs, crosses his arms, and begins walking around my apartment.

 

  
“This is too good for you,” He says angrily. “You’re probably working nights as a male prostitute to afford this.”

  
  
“Why? You wanna buy me?” I tease, walking into the kitchen for a drink. “Because I offer very competitive rates!”

  
  
He’s trying to stay angry, but as soon as I’m out of sight, he starts laughing. I’m almost laughing too, popping open a can of cola fresh from the fridge. I lean against the counter, still smiling to myself. _When was the last time I actually had fun around Lance, or had fun in general?_ I can’t seem to remember. I guess I’ve only ever seen him when I was miserable at the orphanage or tired at work. Maybe it is possible to actually have fun around anyone, even someone like Lance.

  
  
I catch sight of my book lying on the counter. There’s a marker around 100 pages in, the marker alone is bent and twisted and creased beyond recognition. The book itself is almost as bad, the pages dog-eared and crinkled, I’m sure there’s stains and marks on them too, the cover is scratched and ripped at the edge and…

  
  
Oh my, that book has been read far too many times.

  
I’m at the scene where the main character finds his lover (or soon to be lover) named Javier lying in the field with a slit wrist. I remember reading it for the first time and crying. Javier had said that he deserved it; that it was punishment for his mere existence, because he was a monster. I stand for a moment, the scene playing in my head like a movie.

  
  
_The trees surrounding the grove. The smell of the night air. The moon casting light on the small church in the schoolyard. A boy lying in the orchard outside the church, blood strewn about him, seeping from the wound that had been reopened once more. There were tears and panic and love in that heavy night air as Kiram tried his best to get Javier to safety._

  
  
I pick it up, just staring at the cover. I can barely make out the white cursive lettering amongst the creases, scratches and folds- the fancy font reading Lord Of The White Hell. I smile a bit to myself, I’ve always related to that book so much that it’s practically my bible.

  
  
“Keith?” I hear Lance call from the doorway to the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

  
  
“What do you care?” I try to say it meanly, but I can’t bring myself to be truly nasty to Lance.

  
  
“Oh, that’s the book…” He pauses for a second, looking at the book, then at me, then back at the book again. “You used to stay up reading that at the orphanage. Guess it means a lot to you.”

 

“I told you about that book once,” I say, tucking it into a drawer. “Maybe if you look hard enough through that pea-brain of yours, you’ll remember.”  
  
“What?! When!” He demands, suddenly loud enough that I think I could hear him from the lobby.

  
  
“About...six months after you got out of the hospital?” I answer, trying my best to avoid mention of the accident. “But you can barely remember what you ate for breakfast let alone today than when you were probably sky-high on medications at ten, so I guess I don’t blame you for not remembering.”

  
  
“Asshole,” He crosses his arms, his bottom lip jutting out slightly in a pout. “I always wanted to know about that book.”

 

“A game, then?” I ask, smirking at him as I walk back into the living room, picking up one of the playstation controllers on the couch. “Just to settle things. And, if you win I’ll tell you about the book.”

  
  
Lance grins, seemingly forgetting about pouting. “Fine then, pretty boy. I’m gonna wreck you.” He sits down, taking the other controller from the coffee table. “I can beat you at anything. Pick your best one.”

  
  
I shrug, but I know I’m going to completely destroy him. Nothing like some competition to wind me down before bed. Inside, I’m already laughing at how bad he’s gonna be. Still, I don’t show it, just slipping in a disc that was buried in the stack of old dvds and other games. The game’s controls are standard, there aren’t any sort of cheats or hacks, and it’s merely a game of skill and memorizing.   
  
“Your ass is grass,” I say, sitting down on the couch beside him. “And I’m gonna mow it.”   
  
**Lance**

 

 _The fuck is this?_ _  
_ _  
_ The loading screen fades into view. It’s something I’ve never seen before, and I swear there had already been like five minutes of intro credits. Then, suddenly, an image of a T-rex, a menu and the title. Loud music booms, similar to the Jurassic Park theme.   
  
PRIMAL CARNAGE.

 

 _What. The. Hell._   
  
“What is this?!” I demand. “I thought you were like, gonna do Halo or Call Of Duty or…”   
  
“Dealer’s choice,” He gives me a shit-eating grin. “You said you could beat me at anything.”   
  
“But I’ve never even heard of this!” I whine, regretting what I said earlier.   
  
“It’s simple,” He selects online mode, searching for a server. “There’s two teams, one team plays dinosaurs and the other is humans. The dinosaurs are fast and aggressive, but the humans get weapons and guns. You can even get a flamethrower or eat people as a T-rex.”   


Okay, now I’m interested. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of something like that before, but it sounds fun.

  
  
“It’s the same controls as Call Of Duty. Right trigger for attack, left for scope.” It sounds like he’s speaking absentmindedly as he selects a server, waiting a minute or so for it to load. He’s silent until it does, his eyes entirely fixated on the screen.   


“Okay, so there’s two teams…”  He selects dinosaurs, and I select humans. He pauses for a few seconds, as if dismayed I didn’t choose his team, but then he speaks up. “ As the human team, you have five options. There’s Tracker, where you get a shotgun and blinding flares. There’s commando, where you get a standard machine gun and grenades. There’s trapper- he’s cool, you get a netgun and you can capture the smaller dinosaurs. Also, there’s pyro, with the flamethrower like I mentioned earlier.”

  
  
Pyro sounds cool, I think to myself. But...I like having a gun. Then, I catch sight of the last class, labeled Scientist- the one he didn’t mention. With a smile, I select it without hesitation.

  
  
“....you picked the _girl_?” He asks, almost sounding disappointed.

  
  
“Don’t judge,” I say, chuckling a little. “She’s got a sniper and a tranquilizer gun, so I’m going to scope you out then knock you out.”

  
  
“Fine,” He says with a sigh. “I was honestly hoping to get some competition, but now I’ve basically already won.”  
  
  
The game loads finally, and he’s already bound and determined. He chooses the Pterodactyl class, one of the smallest dinosaurs but it had the advantage of flight. I try to tease him about not choosing T-rex like any sane person who had the option to, but he gives me a drawn out explanation on the game’s mechanics and how they work against the T-rex.   
  
I test the controls- aiming down scope, firing, reloading- before I really set out on the hunt. The smaller dinosaurs are far too fast to hit with the sniper. I can’t even focus on them. The tranquilizer gun is much faster, and I pop a few shots into a raptor that’s coming after me-

 

Then, like an eagle, a strangely-familiar looking ptera swoops down, picks up my character, and drops it into a lake.

 

He smiles triumphantly, his eyes plastered to the screen. The _clack, clack, click_ of the joysticks and buttons reverberates through the open living room as he smashes the combinations in as quickly as he could. He didn’t even have to look; he’d memorized them just so that he surely had the upper hand against any sort of opponents. I see his ptera flying in the few seconds before respawn- his movements fast, calculated, and skillful, making him nearly impossible to hit.   


The controller is heavy in my hands, my palms already glistening with sweat. Apparently he doesn’t care that I’ve never played before- well, maybe my previous trash talking had something to do with that- but still, he’s definitely a try-hard. I’m bad at the game so far; my movements are far clumsier than his, and he moves like he is actually part of the game. Even so, there is no way I’m letting him beat me.

 

I respawn, more prepared this time. I grip my controller, my competitiveness boiling up inside me like molten lava. I immediately begin sprinting for the nearest cover, a small building that would make it nearly impossible for a ptera  (*cough*keith*cough*) to fly through. Once I'm secured, I begin aiming at the first thing I see.

 

I guess Keith was right- that first thing I see is a T-rex. It's slow and stays within sight long enough for me to unload eight bullets. Then, I see the beast fall limply to the ground- in a hilariously unnatural fashion- and white lettering pops up on the screen.

_Player 2- +100 kill_

 

“Take that, Mullet!” I exclaim boisterously, the single kill feeling like a milestone.

 

“I already have nine.”

 

_What?_

 

Keith smirks, pressing the middle pad and pulling up the scoreboard. _Spacedad_ is in first (Keith tells me the Ps4 account belongs to his roommate, but I'm not buying it) for the Dino team, with nine kills, three kill assists and…

 

I'm second to last for the humans. I'd need six more kills ASAP to top the leaderboard and to tie up the scoreboard because humans are losing 12-6.

 

I adjust my seating, my previous gloating only fueling my determination. I bite my lip, leaning forward and embedding myself in the game.

 

A raptor charges me, so I take out the tranq gun. After six shots, the raptor slows, but I'm extremely low on health. If it gets me one more time….

 

Three more shots, and the lettering comes up again.

 _Player 2- +100 kill_   


“You’re getting the hang of it,” Keith says, _almost_ sounding proud of me. “Maybe one day you'll actually stand a chance.”

 

Even though I'm in a near inaccessible spot, his ptera maneuvers just perfectly to swipe me with a killing blow. But, before he can gloat about it, my character glitches and her limp body is thrown nearly into space, arms flailing and limbs twisting into an inhuman monstrosity.

  
Then, I hear something. A sound so foreign to me that I’m staring at him wide-eyed, it’s something I’ve never heard before. His lips upturn, and he fights back for a moment, until his cheeks swell with pressure. It’s still no use; the sound erupts from his maw, a blissful, sweet, joyful sound.  

 

He’s laughing, I realize. I can’t believe this is the first time I have ever heard him laugh. He lifts his hand after a second in a poor attempt to stifle the sound.   
  
Then, I’m laughing too- somehow finding my own “death” funny as the ragdoll effect throws my character halfway across the entire playing field, her limp body bouncing off walls and off the ground like a rubber sock monkey- but maybe, just maybe, I’m laughing just because he is, because it feels like it’s the rarest thing I’ve ever seen, because it feels like something that should be cherished.

 

I realize something amidst our laughter, something that almost makes me choke. It hits me like an arrow to the chest, something I've never thought of before.

 

_Keith is happy now._

 

I think back to all the nights I'd heard him cry. All of the times he'd pick the locks and try to escape. All of the times he'd gotten into fights and broken the rules. Then I remember how I'd blamed myself for all of it- for all of his hatred and his misery.  


But maybe he's not as bad as I mentally imagined. Maybe he was just unhappy. Maybe there was something going on beneath the surface that I'd never realized.

 

At least now I realize that he can be happy around me.

 

And I think I'm happier around him.

 

**Keith**

 

Lance is starting to get it, now I won't feel so bad for killing him.

 

We both laugh for a moment before he respawns, honestly I've been playing this game for months and I still haven't gotten over the ridiculous deaths in it. Sometimes the game has a small seizure when you get a kill, but the game’s glitchiness and lack of professional development is half of the fun.

 

We play another round-and Lance _still_ picks the Trex when he's on the Dino team. He gets a few kills, but he's more of a hinder than a help to his team. We play a few more rounds after that before I get up to get a snack. I walk out to the kitchen, grabbing a quick snack first-

 

The clock catches my eye. It's 9:45.

 

_Have we really been playing that long?_

 

I stare at it for a moment, before grabbing my phone off the counter to make sure it's right.

 

_36 unread messages._

 

The clock is right, I notice as I'm waiting for the texts to load.

 

(5:54) Katie: Where did you two go???

(5:55) Katie: WHERE IS MY SON

(5:55) Katie: I WANT ANSWERS

(6:02) Matt: The director is having a meltdown

(6:03) Matt: She says Lance barely goes to the bathroom by himself let alone running off without a word

(6:10) Matt: Keith, he's with you isn't he?

(6:12) Matt: Use protection guys

(6:12) Matt: ;)

(6:30) Katie: ASJFJFJFDCVJSSHBD

(6:31) Katie: KEITH DID YOU KILL HIM

(6:31) Katie: OH GOD HE'S DEAD ISN'T HE

(6:32) Katie: Or are you two like

(6:33) Katie: Having a sleepover or something

(6:35) Matt: It's okay to be gay ;)

(6:35) Matt: We all know lmao

(6:40) Katie: KEITH AND LANCE

(6:40) Katie: SITTING

(6:41) Katie: IN A TREE

(6:41) Katie: K

(6:41) Katie: I

(6:42) Matt: S

(6:42) Matt: S

(6:43) Matt: I

(6:44) Katie: N

(6:44) Katie: G

 

(7:20) Matt: Seriously bro

(7:25) Matt: Tell Lance he needs to come home?

(7:30) Matt: The director is almost in tears

(7:35) Matt: She doesn't need to go through this again, Keith.

(8:10) Matt: ….

(8:22) Matt: Did you block my number?

(8:24) Katie: I'm going to block your number Matt if you don't let me sleep

(8:25) Matt: Tell Lance it's lights out over here

(8:48) Matt: ….

(9:01) Matt: ...goodnight, Keith. We miss you.

 

**Lance**

 

“And here comes the emo Keith,” I joke as he walks in. “I think I liked Primal Carnage Keith better than normal emo Keith.”

 

He smiles a little, but I know it's forced. He picks up his jacket from the end table and folds it, refusing to look at me.

 

“You should get back,” He says, and if I hadn't known any better, I would say he sounds heartbroken. “Katie and Matt were texting me. They're worried. It's late. Way past curfew.”

 

“Shit!” I momentarily forget about Keith’s sudden mood change, jumping up and sliding my jacket on. “Oh man, the director is gonna be so pissed…”

 

“Yeah,” He says, biting down on his lip. “You wouldn't want to put them through what I did.”

 

“Keith,” I say, zipping up my jacket quickly. “I'd _love_ to hear you admit how much of an asshole you are, but now isn't the time.”   
  
“West window, near my old bed,” He says, slinging his folded jacket around his shoulder. “the window that overlooks the street. It’s got a broken lock. You can sneak in there.”   
  
“Gee, I wonder how it got broken.” I scan his living room for a second, making sure I don’t leave anything.

I catch sight of the book once more (in it’s half-open drawer) as Keith walks to the bedroom, sighing and sitting on his bed. He tosses his jacket on the table and flops down on the mattress, as if pouting about my departure. I pause, taking note of how, well- with a lack of other words to put it- he’s adorable when he pouts. He takes off his socks and then lays back down, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
“If you wanted to stay, I wouldn’t mind…” He says, almost like he’s talking to himself. “There’s nobody else here, and we both have the morning shift tomorrow…”   
  
My face heats, but thankfully he isn’t looking at me. I clear my throat and scramble for some sort of comment on that. Because frankly? I do want to stay with him. I want to play games with him, I want to laugh with him, I just want to be here with him-   
  
“Aww,” I say as quickly as I come up with one. “Wittle keefy sounds lonewy.” I speak in a childish tone, mocking the way he’s acting.   
  
He chuckles a little, closing his eyes. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”   
  
“So I am told.” I retort as I slip out into the apartment hallway, smiling.   
  
But now I finally feel it- my chest aches and my body is fighting to turn back. My stomach is in knots and I almost feel bile in my throat. Still I smile, all the way until I’m back out onto the street and far out of sight.

 

I want to turn back. I want to stay with him just a little while longer, and get to know this new side to him- the _happy_ Keith- more. Why didn’t I just accept his offer of staying overnight?   
  
Now I know what he felt all those years- a tearing misery of wanting to leave and wanting to stay. A never ending cycle of misery for him. Endless suffering.

 

There's _something_ I'm missing. I've been thinking about that book of his for years. I know I would've remembered if he told me, but...he's right, I probably was drugged to hell after the accident.

 

The _book_. The first piece of the Kogane puzzle. And if I didn't remember him giving me the answer to part of that puzzle…

 

_What else am I forgetting?_

 

 **Keith** **  
** **  
** _Tick, tick, tick._   
  
I grind my teeth. The deafening sound roars in my ears so much that I want to bang my head against a wall. I try and put a pillow over my head, to perhaps silence it, but it only gets worse with each passing second.   


Tick, tick, tick.  
  
I clutch the sheets beneath me. Was it a device? Maybe a tracker they put in me? I can’t tell. I can’t think. Every time my mind comes up with a logical explanation, the thought is shattered by the damned noise-

 

 _Tick._   
  
Maybe if I just go to sleep….   
  
Tick.   
  
It wasn’t as bad when Lance was here, hell, I don’t even think I noticed it...

 

 _Tick._   
  
What bothers me the most is that I don’t know what it is. I don’t know what is wrong with me. Is it just in my head? Is it merely a figment of my imagination? Or did my roommate Shiro have a stupid clock lying around? A very loud, very obnoxious, traditional style clock? Well, surely in a completely modern apartment like this, there’d be no big old grandfather clocks. So, a watch maybe?

  
  
_Tick, tick, tick._   


When I turned sixteen and left the orphanage, Shiro offered me a place to stay. He said that he was going out of town and he needed someone to watch his apartment for a while. I’d happily obliged- getting out of that damned orphanage and getting to stay somewhere else for free? Sign me up. But after that, I never seen him again. He stopped taking me to that shady doctor, he stopped coming to check up on me, hell, he hasn’t even called me. The last time I seen him was the day he took me to this apartment. He’d made some excuse- being in the military or something- and he surely was the “grizzled war veteran” type, but I wasn’t exactly buying it. It was too sudden, too weird for him to take me here and then disappear.

  
Shiro owned the apartment. Lance was right, of course I couldn’t afford it with my minimum wage job. I had known Shiro since the first day I was at the orphanage. He used to take me once a week, often while the other kids were at school, to a doctor that was out in the countryside. They’d take my height, weight, vitals and they’d draw blood once a month- then they’d check my eyes and run a ton of tests to make sure I was in good health. If everything checked out, I’d be home before the others got home from school. Only once had the results come back bad, and they kept me for three days in a hospital- oddly enough, that was underground. There was one question the doctor always asked me… 

  
_“Do you hear the ticking, Kogane?”_

  
  
Tick.   


I was always different. They know; I know; and Lance knows.

 

Tick, tick, tick.

  
I sit up. I can’t take it anymore. I throw myself out of bed, walking into the kitchen. I look out of the window at the city, where the lights make the night appear as day. There is a full street below.

 

 _Maybe you should test out those wings of yours, and jump._ The thought comes to be as the ticking persists, it driving me insane. I’m pacing now; walking back and forth through the kitchen like the swing of a pendulum.   


Maybe if I go for a walk, it’ll clear my head?

  
I grab my jacket and the book, and the switchblade I’ve had my entire life from the drawer. I don’t know why I take it, but I usually feel lost without it.

 

I throw the door open, walking down the hall at a brisk walk. The same feeling of urgency welling up in me again. I need to _go._ I need to get out of here. Anywhere but here. It’s the same way I felt at the orphanage, desperately clawing for whatever scraps of freedom I could get my paws on, even if it weren’t real. Like the book I carry with me- it’s my own little escape, and when I read about the characters- Kiram and Javier- I can almost feel their love and devotion for eachother, and I almost feel like maybe one day I’ll find love like that, and maybe one day I’ll truly be happy.   
  
Tick, tick, tick.

  
But for now, I just feel like there’s a ticking time bomb in my head. Something bad is going to happen, I know it. Something terrible.   
  
Tick.

 

The ticking grows louder and picks up it’s pace.  
  
I feel like something snaps in me as I throw open the door and step out into the city nightscape. Everything around me blurs and I can’t feel anything but numbness. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like something within me has suddenly changed and I can’t hold back anymore.   
  
_Something bad is going to happen._ _  
_   
**Lance**

 

Fuck, either Keith can fly or he’s secretly been doing cocaine the entire time he’s at the orphanage, because this is damn near impossible.  
  
I sigh, taking a short break through my climb. I’m almost there, my fingers gripping the thick ivy that scales the west wall. Only around five more feet and I’ll be at the second floor, at the broken locked-window Keith told me about. I feel like James Bond, sneaking into the orphanage in the cover of night, alone, by the instructions of some past resident here. It’s a weird feeling, and deep down, I feel guilty for leaving, but the “007” part sounds cool. If this was during the day, I bet there’d be loads of chicks watching me do this and screaming my name.   
  
It _looks_ cool, but it sucks. My arms are trembling, my muscles burn, and if I wait here any longer, the ivy will rip and I’ll turn into Bran from Game Of Thrones. And unfortunately, masses of women don’t line up for Bran, aka the cripple.   
  
I press on, and, it feels like an eternity before my fingers touch the window ledge. I open my mouth to scream with joy, but then I remember that’ll defeat the entire purpose of this. I bite my tongue as I pull myself up to the ledge, and…   
  
The brand new, shiny window lock glints in the moonlight. My heart drops. I’m on the second story of the building, it’s damn near midnight (I walked here from halfway across the city) and I’m locked out. My breath hitches, realizing the severity of my situation as I make the mistake of looking down. Suddenly it looks like I've somehow climbed a skyscraper, high enough to touch the clouds. One little breeze is all it would take for me to die here. 

I peek into the bedroom anxiously. Maybe, by some luck, there's someone awake-

 

Thank god. I see Matt lying awake in one of the bottom bunks, staring at something on his phone. Moonlight casts shadows over the old wooden floor of the bedroom. It seems that everyone else is asleep, the lights are off and everything is still. Well, everything besides Matt, who appears to be texting someone.

 

I tap on the glass aggressively. For a minute, he doesn't look up. He doesn't even seem to hear me, enveloped in his text messages. He's probably sexting, I mean, what else would he be doing at this hour? I grind my teeth and tap harder.

 

He looks up finally, staring at me blankly for a moment. It reminds me of how Keith stared at me earlier. _Is he mad at me? Is he disappointed? Was he upset? Or didn't he care?_

 

He just sits up then, sighing, taking his good old time to get up and walk over to the window. Then, he just stands there, looking out at me as I look in helplessly. It feels like hours before he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a screwdriver and working to unscrew the new window lock. He takes his time with that too- which, I realize is his way of punishing me for leaving. He finally gets it unlocked, and I rush to open it. But, it only opens a few inches before locking again.

 

“Matt!” I whisper-yell. “Christ, let me in! I- I might fall!”

 

“I might push you.” He says, biting the inside of his cheek. “You deserve it. Stay out in the damn cold.”

 

“Matt, please…” I'm on the verge of a panic attack, so I guess it justifies begging this prick to let me in. “I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't watching the time.”

 

He hesitates, letting me suffer for a few moments more, but then he opens it. I leap inside, falling to the floor, thankful for solid ground.

 

“Dipshit,” He mutters under his breath. “You had us all worried. We went out searching and everything. The Director is still up. You need to go talk to her.”

 

“I can't,” I say nervously. “She's gonna be really mad at me, I'm tired and I need to rest-”

 

“Hell yeah, she's going to be mad. While you were out with your little _fucking_ boyfriend, she was crying.” He shoots me a death-glare as he spits the words. “You're like a child to her, Lance. We all are. And Keith was too, but she lost that child. Don't put her through that again.”   
  
“Keith isn’t my boyf-” I start, flushing a bit. I’m interrupted as Matt’s foot drives into my chest and I’m suddenly on my back, wheezing as I try to regain my bearings.   
  
“I don’t care,” He’s breathing heavier, now, too- so much that it sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. “It was Keith’s choice to go. You’ve always said you hated him for making that choice, and now you’re making the same one.” He takes a deep breath, then he stands up straighter. “You. Are. Going. To. Apologize. To. The. Director.”

 

I stare at him for a bit until I catch my breath. He kicked me, the bastard he is. Still, I nod, hanging my head as I get up. I don’t need any more punishment from Matt tonight, so I might as well bite the bullet and face her. I put my hands in my pockets, walking towards the bedroom door. There's a light in the hallway outside, so she's either out there or downstairs. I take a deep breath, gripping the doorknob tightly.

 

Closing my eyes, with a gulp and some silent prayers, I open the door and step out into the hall.

 

**Matt**

 

I should’ve just pushed him out the damn window.

 

I wait until I see him disappear into the hall, then I go and sit down on the bed again. My phone lights up once more. I’m a little anxious, the episode I just had with Lance took over 15 minutes. The anxiety pools and swells even more as I open my messaging app and read the texts.  
  
(12:46) Keith: Sorry, it’s my fault. He stopped over to bring me my jacket and we just started hanging out.

(12:47) Keith: I know you’re mad at me. Everyone is. It’s nothing new.

(12:50) Keith: Did Lance make it home?  
(12:50) Keith: Seemed like he was in a rush

(12:56) Matt: No, he isn’t home yet, but I’m sure he’ll stumble in any minute.  
(12:59) Matt: Not sure if I’m gonna let him in though, I don’t know if I want to hear him snoring tonight.   
(1:00) Matt: Plus he’s probably got Keith cooties now ;)   
(1:03) Keith: Haha.   
(1:06) Matt: Hold on a sec, he’s tapping on the window.   
(1:07) Matt: The one that a certain someone broke   
(1:08) Keith: Did someone fix it?   
(1:09) Matt: The orphanage is like fort knox because of a certain someone

(1:10) Keith: Oh…

 

(1:18) Keith: I am really sorry.

(1:18) Keith: I know I’m a total asshole.

(1:19) Keith: Things were really complicated

(1:20) Keith: I shouldn’t have left like that.

(1:20) Keith: I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven, but I don’t want you to be mad at Lance. He didn’t do anything wrong.

(1:20) Keith: it’s my fault

(1:21) Keith: It always is.

  
(1:22) Keith: I’m not feeling too good

(1:23) Keith: Going out for a walk

(1:23) Keith: I’m really dizzy? I keep hearing this weird ticking noise too

(1:24) Keith: Probably just Lance cooties haha  
  
(1:30) Keith: I think I’m goingh crazy

(1:31) Keith: Everythknh is blhrry

(1:31) Keith: I can’tkj ssee  
(1:32) Keith: kjfekfjkjiureddds   
  
I read on, trying to make sense of the rests of the texts, which appear to just be strings of gibberish.  I sit, contemplating what I should do. I try and text him back, but I don’t get any responses. I try and call, but it goes straight to voicemail. I bite on my thumbnail nervously as I evaluate my options.   
  
Should I try and track his location? He said he was dizzy, he might’ve passed out somewhere. Should I just tell the Director? She might know what to do, or she might have a heart attack. Should I call 911? No, he might just be drunk or something. Should I tell Lance?   
  
Lance...hm..

 

Would Lance sneak out again? I’m sure he would for Keith, considering they’re…

 

_Wait, what are they?_

 

 **Lance**   


I tentatively follow the trail of lights downstairs. My heart is pounding out of my chest, and it feels like I’m stepping into a lion’s lair.

 

The trail leads me to the kitchen. I see an older woman standing there, just staring distantly at the clock. She’s round in stature, her face lined with wrinkles. Tear streaks glint in the moonlight. She’s still wearing the sundress she was wearing this morning, one that is a deep sapphire blue embroidered with red sequin lilies. She looks at the clock, then at the door, then back at the clock again. I hesitate for a moment, but then I speak up.  
  
“I’m back, mama.”

 

She jumps, looking over at me instantly. Then, she’s bounding across the room. I let out a small squeak of fear, but then she just scoops me into her arms, squeezing me so tight that I feel like my ribs are about to bust.  
  
“Mijo!” She’s crying now, but they aren’t tears of sadness. They are tears of joy, tears that send guilt running through my veins. “Lance- I, I was so worried! Where did you go? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”   
  
“I’m sorry…” I croak as she practically hugs me to death. “I went to Keith’s place. We started playing video games and I lost track of time. I’m sorry, mama.”   
  
I’ve always felt like she was a mother to me- the Director has always been the “mother hen” to all of us at the orphanage. I can’t remember all that much of my real mom, but the Director filled the void my mother left when she died in the car accident. She’s always been kind, loving, and that’s why I was so scared to see her- I’ve never wanted to disappoint her, I’ve never wanted to make her sad, I’ve never wanted to make her worry.   
  
All of the things Keith never cared about.   
  
“Keith?” She stops crying, pulling away and looking up at me- she’s a few inches shorter than I am. “He’s okay, right? How is he? Is he eating well? No bad habits? Is he staying somewhere nice? If he isn’t, I’ll go get him right-”   
  
“Ma,” I say, smiling a little. “Slow down. Keith is fine. He lives in a super huge apartment downtown. Thing must be a million dollars a month in rent.”   
  
She smiles, but then the smile turns into a scowl. “That boy is probably on a street corner to afford that.”   
  
“I know! That’s what I said!” I laugh a little- at least I’m not the only one who thinks that. “But really, he’s good. He asked me how you were.” I lied, Keith never even mentioned her- but, I feel like a little lie here and there to make an old woman feel better is okay.   
  
Her face lights up in a smile. “Well, now that you’re back, and all my little birds are in the nest, I’m good too.”   
  
I smile again, hugging her once more.   
  
Then, from the stairway, I hear Matt clear his throat.   
  
“Matthew!” The Director scolds. “You should be asleep!”   
  
“I know,” He says quickly. “But I need to talk to Lance. Alone.”

 

She glares at him for a moment, and I almost think she's ready to grab a frying pan and beat Matt’s head in. Trust me, if I told her that he kicked me earlier, she would. Then, she takes takes a deep breath sighing. “Fine, but don't stay up too long. I am going to bed, I trust you boys to behave and go back to bed yourselves.”

 

“Yes, ma. Goodnight.” I say as she turns and walks upstairs.

 

“What do you want now? If it's another guilt trip, you can piss off.” I cross my arms, glaring at him as well.

 

“It's Keith.” He says bluntly, catching me off guard.

 

“What's wrong?” I say anxiously, my scowl fading instantly.

 

“Did he seem...off when you were there?” Matt asks, taking out his phone.

 

“He had this bad mood swing while I was at his place, and he fell asleep at work today. Other than that, he's just been normal-weird-emo Keith…” I trail off, trying to decipher in my head what truly is normal for Keith. “But other than that, nothing really out of his character.”

 

“Does he normally fall asleep at work?”

 

“No,” I reply, wanting to hear what the real issue is, but also worried about him. “He always looks tired though.”  
  
“Hmm…” Matt scrolls through his phone. “I think something might be wrong.”   
  
“What- how do you know?” I demand, my muscles tensing.   
  
“He sent me some...depressing messages, then he said he wasn’t feeling good and was going out for a walk, but then he said he was dizzy and started sending me gibberish.” Matt says, showing his phone to me.   


“Where is he?!” I say quickly, taking out my own phone. There’s a lot of unread messages, but most are from Matt and Katie, with several missed calls from the director. Still, there’s several there from an unknown number.  
  
(1:12) UNKNOWN: Hey, Lance. Katie gave me your number.   
(1:12) UNKNOWN: Did you get home ok?   
  
(1:16) UNKNOWN: you’re probably mad at me, too.   
(1:16) UNKNOWN: I should’ve explained myself, especially to you.   
(1:17) UNKNOWN: It’s fine, I deserve it.   
  
(1:22) UNKNOWN: Going out for a walk.   
(1:22) UNKNOWN: Might not reply for a bit.   
(1:23) UNKNOWN: Not that you’d wanna talk to me haha   
  
  
(1:27) UNKNOWN: I think something is wrong with me.   
(1:28) UNKNOWN: But I deserve it, right?   
(1:28) UNKNOWN: I’m just a monster anyways.

 

(1:30) UNKNOWN: kfgkfjrfggorijg

(1:30) UNKNOWN: lrghogh5ghngug  
  
There’s several more lines of gibberish, but I don’t take the time to read them, I just look up sharply at Matt. “I want you to use that brain of yours and track his location, then text it to me.”   
  
“Yes sir,” He says, typing something into his own phone. “Already on it.”   
  
I just turn and hurry to the door then, throwing it open, running back out into the night. I quickly grab my bike that’s lying on the porch, jumping on it and riding off as quickly as I can. I don’t even know where I’m going or what I plan on doing, but I know I just need to go. I need to find Keith, because I know, deep down, that something is horribly, terribly wrong.   
  
Something bad is going to happen.   
  
**Keith**   
  
Finally. Some sort of peace.   
  
I lean against the brick wall of the alley behind the store Lance and I work at. I can’t see much of anything, my vision blurry, my head swirling and the blood rushing through my ears. My hands are trembling, and the knife slips out of my hands, clanging loudly against the pavement. Blood bubbles up and spills over the slice in the crook of my arm. It feels like there is a weight on my chest still, it gets worse as I fearfully touch the wound.   
  
I can feel a hard metallic object inside. I grind my teeth, biting back a scream as I reach my fingers inside, pulling the device from my flesh in one quick motion.   
  
As soon as it’s removed, the ticking seems to dull. I try and force my eyes to focus on the device, a red light blinking from it’s center.   
  
Yeah, definitely a tracking device.   
  
I drop it to the ground and step on it, crunching the parts into dust. I smile a little to myself triumphantly. I’m sure it’s been there for a while- and I know that it was put inside me probably back at that doctor that Shiro was taking me to. Well, screw that doctor, screw Shiro, and screw that damn orphanage, Lance too. Shithead can’t even answer my damn texts.   
  
It doesn’t matter, anyways. Why should it? I’m just a bloody animal, imprinted with a tracking device like you’d see on the fucking discovery channel.

Lance is better than I am, he’s always been the Director’s little pet. She’s almost like a mother to him. Well, you know what? Screw her too. She’s the one who told Shiro about me. She knows I’m not human, either, so she gave me up to him. She’s always been like Lance’s mother, and Lance was always closer to Katie and Matt than I was. I’ve always known I was different. I’m sure they’ve all known, too.  I didn’t belong. I never did.  
  
The blood seeps up from between my fingers. I grip it tighter, but it only makes it bleed more. My body seems to be fighting as my blood drains onto the ground. My knees are clacking together and I’m half-hunched now, growing weaker every second.   
  
Then, my eyes catch sight of movement. I can’t see who or what it is, but I stand up straughter, finding the last bit of strength in me. I struggle to focus, sweat dripping down my face as I clutch the wound. I hear a gasp and the sound of a bicycle being thrown to the ground, and I see a flash of tan skin and sapphire blue.

 

_Lance?_

 

**Lance**

 

Oh god.

 

There’s so much blood.

 

He’s shaking, leaning against the wall for support. He’s clutching his arm like an injured animal, blood pouring onto the ground. There’s blood all over his shirt, his pants, and the ground around him. He’s breathing heavily, taking in deep swells of air as if any breath could be his last.

There’s a bloodied knife at his feet, and I know immediately what he did.   


I throw my bike to the ground, not caring about whatever damage that the concrete does to it. I nearly trip, running over to him as fast as my legs will carry me. When I finally reach him, I don’t know what to do. I just grab him by the shoulders, shaking him as my heart races and I can’t seem to articulate words fast enough.  
  
“Keith! Keith, stay with me buddy!” I yell as his eyes lull up at me, blearily trying to focus. He looks even more tired, he’s white as a ghost, and his eyes look bloodshot. I gulp as my throat feels like it’s collapsing on itself, each breath of mine burning like searing hot coals. My chest aches like I’ve been hit by a truck, I feel like my heart is going to implode.   
  
I never thought it would come to this. Sure, Keith was sad. Sure, Keith was weird. Emotional. He wasn’t good at behaving himself. And sure, Keith was miserable. Sure, he didn’t like me or that orphanage for some stupid reason that I’ll never understand. But did I ever once think he’d do such a thing? No, never. Not once in the six years I’ve known him.   
  
“Lance....it isn’t...that bad..” He says groggily. Then,Keith’s eyes close his muscles seem to give in, his knees buckling beneath him.   
  
I let out a cry of fear as I catch him, pulling his weight into my arms. My head swirls as panic courses through my veins. What do I do? Do I call 911? Should I take him to a hospital? Should I call Matt or the Director? No, there’s no time. I make a quick decision, running into the backdoor to the store with him still in my arms.   
  
There has got to be first aid kits in here. Hopefully the wound isn’t too deep that I can’t treat it myself…   
  
Because today is not the day that angel will meet its end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY GUYS
> 
> Some of ticking scene was actually taken almost directly from my original story manuscript. That's kinda why the format is weird. I might share some of that later, but my original story is about angels and demons becoming a common thing and living among humans. A lot of that story is interjected in this, like with Keith and the doctor (there are doctor's specifically for angels in my original story, working at a mysterious building in the wilderness known as "the facility") I may share some of it later, if anyone is interested.
> 
>  
> 
> Shit, I was totally fine when I started this, then I started to get kinda miserable again and just wanted to vent. I remembered the scene in LOTWH (the book Keith has) and yeah, this was based on it. In the book, the society is based upon religion, and the main character's boyfriend (Javier) supposedly holds the key to the gate to hell (hence the title) so the religious leaders punish him for his existence. The main way that they punish him is by cutting him and leaving him to bleed, and when Kiram (his boyfriend) sees this for the first time, he assumes Javier is suicidal and did it on purpose. Hence the last scene; with Keith's texts and stuff, Lance definitely thinks Keith was doing it on purpose, but he was trying to remove the tracking device.
> 
> Speaking of, basically, i'll explain more later, but Keith is the Seraph of The End. Shiro, among others, know this and want to be sure that they don't lose him, hence the tracker.
> 
> But the ticking- I was rereading some of seraph of the end and I found something weird...well, it seems to me that the apocalypse was brought on by angels/the seraphs of the end, right? It is the only thing that would make sense. But, if it was, then how did Yuu and Mika (since they were both seraphs) not know/react? I don't get it. So anyway, here, I thought it would be interesting if the angels heard a "countdown" in their heads before the apocalypse.
> 
> So yeah, next chapter will be MUCH shorter, and cover the apocalypse part. I'm also gonna take a small break, and put more efforts on my own manuscript as well as my writing course in school. I'm participating in the NanoWriMo this year, and need to write 50,000 words in a month. So, I'll either write like 4 chapters in advance and wait to post them, or I'll just take a break entirely.
> 
> (I'm totally fine don't worry I feel much better after writing this)
> 
> Oh, and parts of this are actually based/inspired by legitimate events that happened to me? Just some parts. I'll add that to my list of things I'll explain later.
> 
> The Director is also inspired by Rosa from dirty laundry! I'm uncreative and give credit to that author :)
> 
> Anyway, hopefully I'll see you all next week!
> 
> Ps Primal Carnage is a real game and it's awesome


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance tries his best to bandage up Keith; being very gay in the process. (WE HAD A BONDING MOMENT I CRADLED YOU IN MY ARMS)  
> Then, Lance pretty much makes Keith work with him at the cafe, and a pretty girl shows up.
> 
> In reality, that girl was sent by an evil overlord named Zarkon to poison Lance so that he could capture the Seraph Of The End.
> 
> (THIS IS NOT A FULL CHAPTER, JUST A WARNING! I realized I was taking way too long. I won't be able to work on this fic in november, so I'm gonna upload this chapter in two parts.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Honerva is in this, and she's pre-haggar, aka she still looks like a teenage girl like we seen in the one flashback with king alfor and zarkon.
> 
> (THIS IS NOT A FULL CHAPTER, JUST A WARNING! I realized I was taking way too long. I won't be able to work on this fic in november, so I'm gonna upload this chapter in two parts. Working on the NanoWriMo this year for school and I have to bust my balls on another project, I won't have time for this unfortunately.)
> 
> Also, more important notes at the end.

**No POV**

 

“It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay, it’s going…”    
  
Lance repeated himself like a broken record as he held Keith’s limp body in his arms. He walked as fast as he could with the extra weight, making his way to the cafe area. He found a table with two booth-style chairs, so he gently tried his best to set Keith down without hurting him. He stood there for a moment, his mind drawing a blank as to what he should do next. All he could think about was Keith, every fiber in Lance’s body screaming  _ “help him, help him or he’s going to die.” _

 

He gathered his thoughts the best he could. He had to help him, but how? Lance had no idea how to stitch a wound. Did it even need stitches? How should he disinfect it? Should he wrap it with something? If so, what?    
  
_ Doesn’t matter, _ he said to himself as he started running for the pharmacy section of the store.  _ Just do what you see on TV, like in the Walking Dead or something.  _

 

Lance filled his arms with whatever came to mind- gauze, medical tape, bandages, wound spray, among other things that he wasn’t even sure would be helpful in the situation. He scooped them all up and ran back to Keith, tearing open each of the boxes without a second thought.   
  
_ They can just take it out of my paycheck.  _ He thought to himself as he took Keith’s hand, bending his arm to expose the wound.    
  
Lance winced. It was still bleeding, but it had slowed a bit. Still, there was so much blood. A sickening amount. He bit his tongue to keep himself from vomiting in the corner, taking some napkins from the table to wipe away the mess. He tried to not think of it- he purposely tried to think of anything else, anything but Keith, hurt Keith- pained, upset, emotional Keith.

 

**Lance**

 

_ Why hadn’t I seen it? How could I have not known? The signs were there. _ I mentally torment myself as I wrap the wound in gauze. I think back to all of those dumb “prevent suicide” commercials I’d seen in school.  _ Keith’s a textbook case. Withdrawn. Angsty. Goth, even. He used to cry at night when he was at the orphanage. He ran away, distancing himself even more. He didn’t want anyone to miss him. _

 

Before I know it, my eyes blur. I shakily take the bandages, wrapping the wound methodically.

 

_ It’s my fault. I could’ve helped him. I should’ve stayed with him. _

 

I can’t help it. My entire body is shaking now. It’s like when he left the orphanage, except worse. Because this time, I almost lost him for good. Tears unwillingly start to spill, dripping down onto the floor like little warm raindrops. 

 

After a moment, I’ve managed to somehow do something. A very improper bandaging. I sit next to him, and, as if to only comfort myself, I pull him into my arms and grip him tightly. I’m crying now, clinging to him like he’s the only thing tethering me to this place, tethering me to this fucked-up world we live in.

 

**Keith**

 

….   
  
All I feel is warmth and numbness.   
  
Warm, like being in my mother’s arms. It was a feeling I’ve craved so dearly for so many years. A feeling of love, of safety, and the feeling of allowing your worries to fade away like dust in the wind. I bury myself further into this feeling, embracing it as if I’ve never felt it before, pressing myself into it and hoping it would last forever.

 

Then, I feel a small twinge. A little stinging sensation. But then it grows, spreading itself through my nerves and shocking my senses back into reality. I realize that I’m not home, I’m not with my mother, and any sense of security I’m feeling now isn’t what I think it is. The pain in my left arm grows and the events of the last few hours resurface in my memory.   
  
_ A walk. The ticking. A knife. Lance. _

 

_ Lance…? _   
  
I try to force myself to move. To get up. To just open my damn eyes or my stupid mouth. What would I even say? ‘I’m sorry?’ or ‘It’s not what it looks like’ or ‘Hey, Lance, you know how you’ve always hated me for leaving? Yeah, I left because I’m a monster and I was being tracked down like bigfoot. Nothing personal and all.’   
  
My body doesn’t want to move. I can’t seem to will myself to get out of his arms, out of this warmth that feels so good. I close my eyes tighter for a second, savoring one last moment before I force them open.

 

**Lance**

 

It’s been hours, and I’ve only just now gotten a sign of life.    
  
He lets out a groan, pushing off of me a little and stretching like a kitten. His eyes lull open tiredly and he blinks several times trying to get them to focus.   
  
“Keith!” I exclaim, grabbing him and hugging him as tight as I can. “Oh god- I thought you were…”   
  
“Just a scratch.” He croaks under the death-grip I have him in.   
  
Then, I release him abruptly. I realized how I look, cradling him like this, all worried and disheveled when he gets hurt. My face heats, but I hide it by getting up quickly.   
  
“Shift starts in a half hour,” I say as I clear my throat. “Boss says you’ll be working in the cafe with me today.”   
  
**Keith**

 

Shit...I’ve been out that long?   
  
“I...um..” I rub my eyes. I can’t think of what to say. “I’m...uh...sorry for worrying you. You shouldn’t have to get involved with my troubles.”   
  
“Worrying me?” His voice cracks, and suddenly his mood changes. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t be worried. You left everyone at the orphanage like your life depended on it, and you haven’t really spoken to any of us since you left. I finally get to truly see you again yesterday and you seemed okay, for me to later only find you covered in blood in an alleyway with a deep cut after you sent Matt and I some depressing messages.” He spits the words, finally releasing some of the anger he’s been brooding over.

 

I stare at him wide-eyed for a second. Did he just scold me like a child? Is he honestly going to guilt trip me now? I contemplate coming up with an excuse, but I just bite down in my bottom lip, my eyes falling to the floor as I nervously trace my fingers down the tight bandage on my arm. “..I'm sorry…”

 

**Lance**

 

“Stop fucking saying that!” I yell, my voice raising. “It doesn't undo anything, or make it better!”

 

Keith jumps at my loudness,then he just squeezes his eyes shut. He's biting his lip hard, and I can see he's starting to draw blood. He's trembling as if he's on the verge of crying, his fingers picking at the edges of the bandage. My heart feels like it's going to collapse at the sight- Christ, he's hurt and I'm making it worse. Good job, Lance. Yelling at him really accomplished a lot.

 

I take a deep breath, collecting my thoughts. “Okay. Sorry Keith, I shouldn't have snapped like that. I haven't slept...let's talk about this later, after our shift. Agreed?”

 

He nods sadly, and I just go and get my things ready for the new shift.

 

**Keith**

 

Fuck, how does Lance actually look decent in one of these? 

 

I've got one of the green aprons pulled over my hoodie (which, was red so it hid the blood, and the sleeves concealed the bandage quite nicely) as I awkwardly wipe down the counter. Lance is working on cleaning one of the machines, humming a little to himself, completely ignoring me.

 

He's much calmer now that the shift has started. We haven't said a word to each other since he blew up on me, however, I find quiet Lance better than angry Lance. It does feel weird though, he's usually always running his mouth about something. Having him be so quiet is making me a little nervous. Does he hate me now? God, I shouldn't have worried him like that. He probably thinks I'm a suicidal maniac. 

 

Just as I finish wiping down the counter, Lance greets the first few of the morning customers. His warm smile and polite attitude almost make me forget what happened earlier. A pretty girl says something and he laughs, his cheeks dotted with red and his blue eyes sparkling. I can't seem to get enough of it, but I force myself to look away. I can't possibly make this any more awkward than it already is.

 

As he continues to flirt with the girl, I try and make it look like I'm working. I start fumbling with one of the machines. I hear the girl laugh then too, a light feminine giggle that sends my blood boiling.

 

Fucking hell. Can't Lance make up his goddamned mind? He nearly had a heart attack when he found me. He walked all the way from across town on foot because he was worried about me. He cradled me in his arms like a Fucking baby all morning. Now he's back to being Mr Cool, flirting with the first short skirt he sees walk in the door. I'm scrubbing the machine harder than I should, the anger pooling up in me.

 

I don't know what to think. We're both tired, and we both are still a bit heated from this morning-

 

_ Crack! _

 

The nozzle snaps off of the dispenser. Hot coffee spurts and sputters from it and I scramble to stop the flow. Lance rushes over instantly.   
  
“Keith- shut off the power switch!” He barks as he tries to cover the nozzle with a cup- which, works to stop the flow for a whole 2.7 seconds.   
  
I hastily work to shut it off as quickly as I can. There’s a power strip with a few things plugged in, but I just rip the whole thing out of the outlet. Better safe than sorry.   
  
“I ah...I’m sorry Lance…” I shamefully pick up the nearest set of towels. “I’ll get it-”   
  
“No,” He says, setting the cup down. “You’re hurt. I’ll clean it, you just man the counter. Got it?”   
  
I hesitate for a moment, feeling guilty to have him clean up after me. But, with his tone, he certainly wasn't asking. I didn't have a choice. I just stay quiet, walking over to the counter and handing a few drinks to the first customer.   
  


I begin to take the next order, but then I hear something familiar. A child's giggle. Then a snort follows, and I know exactly who it is.

 

“Katie…?” I ask curiously, peering over the counter at the short head of brunette hair. The young girl beams up at me, her brother right behind her.

 

“Keith!” She exclaims, bouncing like she's secretly half rabbit. “I didn't think I'd see you here!”

 

“Yeah…” I smile at them. “Just helping Lance today.”

 

“Ooooo,” She looks over at Lance, who surprisingly hasn't heard her yet. She then quietly whispers: “So how's...y’know...it going with you two?”

 

“Katie,” Matt rolls his eyes. “Leave the poor boys alone. They had a rough night. Speaking of...are you okay? You had me worried.”

 

I wince a little. Shit, when everything was all blurry last night, I guess I texted everyone…

 

“Uh, yeah. Things are good. I was just...not feeling well last night. Then Lance showed up and helped me out.”

 

Katie gasped as if I just told her that leprechauns were real. She puts both hands on the counter, pushing herself up more. “I knew it!”

 

“Knew what?” I unfortunately make the mistake of asking before Matt shushed her.

 

She grins wickedly, lowering her voice. “You know...the thing between you? The epic bromance of Lance and Keith?”

 

I blush, but I can't help laughing. It sounds too damn ridiculous.

 

“He wishes,” I reply, opening the register. “Now, do you two want to buy anything or would you like to help me make fun of Lance in an apron?”

  
  
**Shiro**

  
….

  
“The seraphim has been located, sir.” I stand mechanically still, my hands obediently behind my back. I keep my eyes at the floor. God- I don’t want to do this. I don’t know if I can. Do they really even deserve it? Yes, humans were flawed. Yes, they made mistakes. But did they all deserve to die?   
  
A large figure shifts in the large metal throne in front of me. I can feel his piercing gaze and victorious smile. He looks down at me as if I’m just a rodent that rose from the sewers.   
  
“I heard it’s becoming quite deviant,” He says nonchalantly. “It seems it tore out it’s tracker.”   
  
“Yes, but we’ve managed to track it down manually. It’s with the other child from the orphanage.” I want to bite down hard on my tongue. I don’t want to say any more. “...but, the other two children from the orphanage will be in the vicinity as well.” 

 

“The other child...Lance McClain, correct?” He asks, his gruff voice echoing through the chamber. “My little spies tell me that the seraphim has a soft spot for him.”

 

“Perhaps,” I answer as shortly as possible. “We won't know until both are captured.”

 

“Little Lance will be a bargaining chip.” He says matter-of-factly. “Be sure he is infected. The angel will fall in line then, without hassle.”

 

“The virus could kill him,” I've never really been fond of the McClain boy. Still, he's just a kid. “He will barely have hours to live, should an antidote not be available-”

 

“Then you will be sure that their capture is swift.” 

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

**No POV**

 

Once Lance had finished the cleaning the mess and the siblings had left, he decided to take his lunch break. However, he hasn't expected the pretty girl from earlier to still be waiting for him, she sat in the Cafe area, looking out at the other customers. 

 

Her light, silvery hair was tied back, leaving only a small swoop across her forehead. She had tanned, almost olive skin tone and these striking honey-hazel colored eyes. She wore a dress that was two shades of blue, one a light and the other more of a turquoise. Her ears were slightly more pointed than the average person, but other than that, she looked like a regular girl. Except prettier.

 

Lance blushed, finding the courage to get up and go talk to her. He stood near the table, clearing his throat lightly. “Didn't think you'd wait. Am I that hot?”

 

The girl slowly looked up, scanning over Lance’s figure briefly before smiling.

 

“...that's not the wording I would use. You have the figure of a prepubescent shrimp.” She laughed again, it made Lance’s heart melt.

 

When he wasn't able to come up with a comeback, she just leaned back in the chair. “Sit, Shrimp.”

 

“That's not my name,” he said shyly as he sat down. “The names Lance.”

 

She looked at the coffee she'd ordered, but oddly enough, she hadn't taken a sip of it since she'd ordered it.

 

“My name’s Honerva. And no ‘Hon’ jokes please, I get them all too often.”

 

“Understood,” Lance smirked a bit, storing that information for later. Then, he seen the coffee. “Uh..is something wrong with it? I can get you a new one-”

 

“No, it's fine. Really.” She looked up at him, smiling brighter. “I just forgot to mention that I'm lactose intolerant. I'm pretty sure that the creamer in it has milk, so I can't drink it. But it smells so good, I'd hate to waste it.”

 

“Ah, sorry,” Lance apologized even if he wasn't the one at fault. “I'll get you a new one.”

 

Meanwhile, Keith watched the two go through the flirting routine, dancing in metaphorical circles around each other. Like dogs forever chasing their stupid tails. The girl was..decent, unfortunately that wasn't Keith’s ballpark. However, he did have a bad feeling about her. Keith hit a point when he couldn't watch it anymore, he just took off the apron and headed for the breakroom.

 

“No,” Honerva interrupted. “I've got to go, just don't waste it.” She offered him a wink that made Lance think his heart would stop then and there.

 

Lance was about to go after her, but he felt like he couldn't move. His heart was beating rapidly and his stomach fluttered. He felt like he had to obey her, like she carried some sort of power that made boys do whatever she wanted. After a good minute, when she was totally gone and out of sight, Lance slid down in the chair. He dreamily took a sip of the coffee she'd given him, staring off at the customers passing by.

 

God, he was tired. He knew he looked like shit, and that's probably why she didn't stay. Blame Keith Mcfuckin’ Dickweed for that.

 

_ Speaking of… _

 

Lance looked back at the counter. An apron was lying there, but the traitor that it belonged to was nowhere to be found.

 

“Christ…” Lance groaned as he got up, gulping down the rest of the drink.  _ Where did that basted go? _

 

He threw away the cup with more aggression than he should have. He felt ready to blow up again. Why couldn't Keith just stay put? Why did he always go running off the first second he got a chance? Why couldn't he just stay, shut his damned mouth and behave himself? 

 

_ I bet he's an attention whore. He gets off on this shit, making everyone worry about him every second of the day. _

 

Lance wandered around the store for a little while, unsure of where Keith had run off to. The first place he checked was the music and video games section, given the events of yesterday. The second place he checked was the books section, thinking that maybe he was looking for something else to read besides Lord Of The White Hell. When he didn't find anything there, he checked the knives section (albeit with a pit in his stomach at even the thought of finding Keith there), and he was a little relieved that Keith wasn't there. Lance thought about calling Matt, maybe Keith texted him or something, but he didn't want to get Matt involved. He'd definitely get the wrong idea if Lance seemed so worried about Keith’s whereabouts.

 

Finally, he decided to just go and rest in the breakroom. He just told himself “Keith will be back soon” as he made his way there.

 

**Lance**

 

Of course.

 

Keith is right there, totally buried in his book again. I guess he takes it everywhere. He sits down, one leg crossed over the other in a feminine position (am I paying too much attention to that?) his eyes scanning a particular page with great interest.

 

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.  _ Why do I worry so damn much? _

 

At the sound, he perks up a bit. “Oh, sorry, you were busy so I thought I'd just go on break.” He apologizes shyly, averting his gaze from mine. Then he dips his head just slightly, like he's ready for me to scold him.

 

Why does that look absolutely adorable? It shouldn't. I should still be mad at him, but I can't.

 

“ ‘Tis fine.” I mutter as I go to the snack machine. My stomach is turning a bit. Too much happening without sleep, I guess. 

 

“So…” He clears his throat awkwardly. “How'd it go?”

 

“Ugh…” My head swims. “What go?”

 

“The girl.” He says expectantly.

 

“Oh,” I flush a little in embarrassment. “Nothing to brag about I guess, she left pretty abruptly.”

 

“She probably just wanted free coffee,” He sighs, turning a page in the book. “You shouldn't get yourself worked up over it, that's just how girls are.”

 

“And  _ you _ of all people are the best advice for these things?” I smile a little, feeling my face heat. Am I blushing or is it a fever?

 

“Ouch,” He says with a bit of a laugh. “Hey, I'm just trying to help.”

 

“A for effort.” I pick out some crackers from the vending machine.

 

He looks up like he wants to say something, biting down on his bottom lip lightly. After an awkward minute, he just silently looks back down at the book, almost sadly. 

 

“What?” I ask, unsure if I even want an answer.

 

“I just…” He avoids eye contact,  running his thumb against the edge of the book. “I don't want you to worry about me or anything. I know it seemed bad last night, but it...wasn't what it looked like.”

 

**Keith**

 

“Keith,” Lance leans back against the vending machine. “I know you were never happy at the orphanage. You despised it, and I never knew why. I'd lay awake and think about it every night. What could've possible made you so miserable?” He trailed off for a second, like it was a question he was asking himself rather than asking me. “You left, and i blamed myself for a while. Matt always assured me that it was just how you were- you were the ‘Lone Wolf’. Then I step into your life for a single day and this happens.”

 

He looks down, with this sad look in his eyes like a piece of him was dying. I feel like my heart is going to implode.  _ No, no, Lance, don't- _

 

“I...I get it now,” His voice cracks, his blue eyes sparkling. “I understand. I'm...I just….I make things worse, don't I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished season 7.
> 
> And I absolutely despised it. 
> 
> It was really good, all the way up until the last episode. That was one of the worst 'plot twists' I've ever seen in my life. It made me want to quit this fic and never think about Voltron again. But, I've invested a lot in this. I have a lot of plans for it and I won't drop it that easily.
> 
> -
> 
> "He's becoming quite deviant"
> 
> HI MY NAME IS KEITH AND I'M THE ANDROID SENT BY CYBERLIFE
> 
> So, on another note, I'm REALLY into the Detroit:Become Human fandom now. The game is so good, so well written, and there's so many possibilities (and *cough* so many ships) If anyone has not played it, pleaSE DO. You won't regret it.
> 
> I really want to do a fanfic for a trashy ship in DBH called "Reed900". I live for this ship now.
> 
> So, yeah, that's gonna be my priority after the NanoWriMo. I'm gonna start a new fic, I'll link it when I upload part 2 of this chapter.
> 
> Thanks for sticking around!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! It has been a really long time since I've written fanfiction, so I apologize if I'm a bit rusty.  
> I've always wanted to write something for Seraph Of The End, and now that I'm into klance I really wanted to combine them.
> 
> One thing I think isn't so clear is the whole back story thing...it will be explained later, but basically, Keith saw a car crash, rushed to the scene and found Lance. He pulled Lance out, but Lance thought he'd seen Keith with wings that night, and along with Keith's actions later on he doesn't think Keith is human.
> 
> Also, I'm gonna have to veer off the track here a lot, Voltron is VERY different from Seraph Of The End, but I'm gonna try. Especially with the way season two ended, there's no way I'm gonna end this like that.
> 
> Off topic, but for those who know the show, should Shiro be Guren? You know, the main leader of the human crew? (Spoiler) that would mean he'd just be using Lance, and I kinda think it's against Shiro's character, but if using Lance meant he could stop the Galra, I think he would tbh. Let me know what you guys think.
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Oh! And song is "Push Pull" By Purity Ring. Each chapter is likely gonna have a soundtrack .


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